United Stateless Podcast

and cultural shock. When you're figuring out exactly where is home? Listen to alex an episode from season one where Alexandra explores what's it like to actually grow up in Mexico and a warning to our listeners, this episode includes some explicit language and mature content. Enjoy.

this town called Noglees. I guess my grandparents would take my dad and his siblings there to go shopping, and in the fifties it must have been a nice spot, but this was the eighties and it was becoming ultra and narco. We lasted only a few hours before my parents got freaked out and took me and my brother

back over the border to Arizona. They haven't been there since I was born in the US, but I grew up in a community where a lot of people had immigrated, and while they were there were representatives for pretty much every livable continent save Australia. Almost everyone from a Latin background was a refugee for most Salvador. My main exposure to Latin identity growing up was a bunch of people who had the very very specific experience of fleeing a

civil war. I definitely didn't have that. I didn't even really speak Spanish at the time, but most of all, my family had been in what's now considered the US for generations, and my mom's not Latin. So when people ask me what are you? I felt like I didn't really have a good answer. The part was people really wanted me to have a good answer They seem to have this checklist in their mind that one needed to check off in order to be sufficiently Latin. And I

never really checked off any of those boxes. And I couldn't escape the question either. I mean, my name is Alexandra Rivera. People would see my name and want to be told a story that would make them feel comfortable with identifying me a certain way. That was just, you know, trying to live my life. I have to admit I was really jealous of my classmates who had immigrated. I mean, I wasn't jealous of the experience of being an immigrant. I was jealous that they had a short, quick answer

to the question what are you? Because in my mind, they didn't have these identity issues I was rapidly developing. It was easy for them. They were Salvadorian and of conversation, no explaining their whole family history upon meeting people. Also, in my mind, everyone was completely fluent in Spanish. I was very jealous of that too. I compared myself to the population around me and came to the conclusion that we didn't really have anything in common. But then I

went to Mexico City for the first time. By this point in my life, I had learned Spanish. My grandfather had forgotten English due to dementia, so it became pretty imperative. That plus a lifetime of strangers being disappointed that I didn't speak a language that, quite frankly, a lot of them didn't speak, and a few months dating a Spanish translator really put things into motion. And I thought I was pretty well prepared. I just traveled through Spain and

had been fine. In fact, I even knew some Mexican slang for my dad, like he told me that people called each other abato. He even calls white Ford F one fifties vatomobiles. I thought I probably had an advantage in Mexico because I'd grown up knowing some Mexican shit, like that pasoli was a dish made exclusively with pork, and that I could definitely understand the accent, and that there were people that looked like me. I thought I

was about to experience a weird identity affirming homecoming. Long story short, I was wrong about pretty much everything, and I was about to experience a shit ton of culture shock. So in this episode, I'm going to try and explain what I learned about Mexico. So the best I can, specifically Mexico City, where much of our story takes place, because I want you to know what these returneys are returning to, and if you're American, you probably have a

lot of ideas of what Mexico is like. There's Cancun, really great food, a lot of crime or misconceptions like it's hot everywhere. I actually had to buy sweaters when I was there. I'm Alexandra Rivera and this is United stateless.

next to a really old tree. Because Mexico City, you're actually walking on the notchtip land, you're actually walking on the super ancient ground where the Aztecs were.

eagle perched on a cactus devouring a snake. When they saw this, he proclaimed they would know where to build the city. So after several generations of wandering around North America, the tribe came across the sacred symbol the issue the eagles, snake, and cactus were on an island in the middle of a lake. So Mexico City started out as a floating city. The Michika made a series of man made islands and

gardens and created canals that connected all of them. Think of it as a massive venus with much more greenery. If you've heard anything about the Michika, it's probably that they sacrifice people. This is not something the Spanish made up. Several of the religious practices involved a blood offering, which historically had been made by sacrificing someone in their own community.

But the Michika were very successful militarily, and they took a lot of captives from other tribes in the Valley of Mexico, so it became a much more common practice for them to sacrifice a captive from a conquered area than one of their own people. And since the gods seemed to really be smiling down on them, they practice sacrifice much much more than other cultures in the region.

When the Spanish came into the picture in the sixteenth century, they faced a formidable opponent in the Mehika, but they had an advantage, and not because the Michika leader Machtezuma. The second thought that Hernan Cortez was the god kiss Aquadal That was probably an invention by the Spanish. Turns out, being the most hated tribe in the valley of Mexico can make you some enemies. The local tribes contributed many troops, as well as knowledge of the layout of the city.

The Spanish brought with them weapons that had never been seen in the area before and small parks. After three months, the conquisadors and local tribes were victorious, but Tenotechlm was mostly destroyed. After the victory, Cortez was able to take much of modern day Mexico under his control. The colony was called New Spain and lasted for three hundred years. In the eighteenth century, the Spanish drained much of the lake that Tenotechlm was built on, making way for more

buildings in Mexico City. This was an incredibly stupid idea that has left the city in a very precarious situation when it comes to the stability of its architecture. Note, if you're going to build a city in an area that is prone to earthquakes, don't build it on a lake bed. There is part of the canal and island system that exists today. It's called Zochimilco, and if you or in Mexico City, it's totally worth the visit. According to my dad's deep delve into genealogy, his Spanish family

came to Mexico City in the fifteen hundreds. They were Sephardic Jews who were escaping the Spanish Inquisition. I'm not exactly sure how my dad's family came to what is today New Mexico, but I know that it was a popular spot for people to move after the Mexican Inquisition. My ancestors, who were part of various Pueblo tribes, had

been there for a while. At the time, New Mexico was part of Mexico, along with states such as Arizona and California, until the Americans invaded in the eighteen forties. In nineteen twelve, it officially became a state. The thing about New Mexico is that it feels like a different country from the rest of the US. It's very Latin, but it's also definitely not Mexico despite all of the

Chilean tamales. Although it has a lot in common with Mexico in terms of shared history and cultural practices, it's also kind of its own place, which was something that hit home for me very profoundly when I visited Mexico City for the first time.

pre European contact Mexican beliefs. It's not a new or French thing there. If you tell your Mexican friend that you're feeling off, they might tell you to go charge your crystals. There are people in the street who will cleanse your aura, and they aren't there for Taurus. Another thing that survived Cortees the food.

Turns out it can also be made with chicken, and sometimes it's made with no chili, And pretty much all of my references were for the north of Mexico, and people were very very quick to point this out. I kind of felt the trade like I thought I knew the answer to a test and then showed up for the wrong class. And I was putting a lot of pressure on myself to get it, because that was what I conveyed back home, that I got it, that I was like vaguely Mexican American, that that's what I had

settled on. And this realization that maybe I didn't get it, or maybe I was in the wrong part of the country to get it hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt like I had failed. And the funny thing was people in Mexico knew that I was a foreigner. No one was disappointed that I didn't get it. Or by this point my self, doubt had reached the fever pitch so bad that I was having trouble ordering coffee. It was all in my head. Alex was very happy

to explain everything to me. It was almost like he had a Mexico for dummy's curriculum.

idea of what they were doing. It's amazing taco wise, Mexico City is known for the alpastor, a marinated pork and pineapple creation that borrows a lot from shwarma. In fact, it was created by Lebanese immigrants to the region. Meat tends to be very regional in Mexico, as most things are. Actually the North is known for beef. Mexico City has pork aside from street food in thakarias. Mexico City is also home to two of the world's top fifty restaurants.

There are any Michelin stars in the country because there is an a MI guide for Mexico, but if the government ever decided to pay for them to come, I'm sure they would clean up. I also want to clear up a few things about the food. Number one, Burritos are a Northern thing and they don't have rice in

them or French fries. Number two. While Nacho's were technically invented in Mexico by a haired restaurant owner on a border town who was trying to make a group of Americans happy, Nacho is a nickname for a man called Ignacio. It's not really a thing here unless you go to Chili's, which is an American restaurant. The fijiita comes from Texas, the chimmy chianga is probably from Arizona, and the crunch wrap Supreme is from Taco bell I do want to

cave at that. Although it's hard to get a bad meal in Mexico City, it's not hard to get food poisoning. Although I haven't gotten it every time I've gone, I did get it twice in a row the last time I was there, and from Fresa places, not jiangaros. Fresa means bougie. That's also not a foreigner belly thing. Locals will sometimes take a yearly anti parasitic. But something you don't need to worry about is the water or ice

or like getting a salad. Almost no one drinks the water there, and no, there's no magical Mexican gut protocol that makes locals immune to sell Manila. It would take a whole second podcast to explain why water in Mexico City is a problem. And there are people who insist that the water is fine and it just has a bad reputation. And it is true that not every glass of water you draw from the tap has harm causing

bacteria in it. It's a possibility it's not a guarantee. However, my friend turned me onto a water report from several years ago that indicated elevated levels of mercury in the tap. So I'll let you make your own decision on that one. Because of all these issues, Mexico is one of the highest consumers of bottled water in the world. I've even seen people in favelas with bottled water. Mexico in general

has big economic divisions. I think there are a lot of people in the US who have this idea that everyone in Mexico is poor and really wants to go to the States. The short answer is that there is incredible wealth to go along with that heartbreaking poverty.

Social mobility isn't as accessible in the States as our ingrained mythology would suggest either at this point in time, but that is also a different podcast. The US can mean different things to different Mexicans depending on their income bracket. For many people in Mexico, it's a lifeline for a better quality of life. For someone like Alex it meant luxury in a slice of fantasy.

But in the other sense, it's having the gentrification classic phenomenon which is now starting to show, and the rents are going up, and they are now like tweets and memes now saying that, yeah, like the regular Mexican walking in Droma or in Condesta, now it feels that we are illegal immigrants.

like a maiden. And then they became they were together and they had children and Malinche, which is kind of like the Spanish way of saying Malitin, who was a traditional name, was kind of like the first one, and for many people they see her as a traitor, but I mean she had she was about to be killed, so I don't know if we can judge her, but she was like kind of like giving favor to the

conqueror or anyone. So the term of malin chista or malincha is that you kind of like appreciate more things from outside your country, and you're kind of like favoring the knowledge of other country that is not yours. And unfortunately the Mexican people is very Malinchista is like very like if you actually come from another country, the Mexican will find you exotic.

maleon chismo also doesn't apply to everyone. It doesn't apply to people that come from countries that produce a lot of migrants, like Honduras or a Salvador. It also doesn't apply to people who don't look like they should be foreigners. So if you look Mexican but are from the US and a stranger in the country, you are not going to be treated the same way that someone from Japan would be. And there doesn't seem to be a big alliance between the digital nomads and the people who have returned.

And while a lot of nomads are American and probably have a lot culturally in common with people who have returned buying large, these two groups are living very different existences in the city. See, the Americans are still earning dollars while the returneys are likely earning pesos. And there's definitely a difference when you choose to be in a place versus when you have to be in a place.

Although I didn't meet any digital nomads on my first trip, I did learn about the tale of two cities andess of being a returney versus being an obvious foreigner. On that fateful first time in Mexico City. Eventually I wound up having a good time. I met someone which prompted me to make plans to come back to the city. I made friends Sasa museums. I was just coming out of my fog of weird self inflicted shame and confusion

when I was headed to the airport. As I called the Uber, I expected that it would be kind of a quiet car ride. My brain was half fried and I was convinced that I had somehow lost my Spanish completely in my week in Mexico City. But when my driver, Victor Manuel's car pulled up, he hopped out and greeted me in an American accent at English. I was taken aback. What was this American doing driving Uber in Mexico City.

As we got on the highway and promptly got stuck in one of Mexico City's famous traffic jams, I asked Victor Manuel where he grew up. He told me California, but he had been undocumented. In his early twenties, he came to the conclusion that his time in the US had run its course. He couldn't enroll in college because he couldn't pay for it. He was afraid of being found out every time he left his house. He didn't see any sort of path forward or protection for him

on the horizon. So Victor Manuel decided he was going to disappoint his dad, who had brought him to the States when he was a baby, and returned to Mexico without speaking so much as a word of Spanish. But when he landed in Mexico, he realized how horribly unprepared he was for this transition, and more maddeningly, Daca came into existence six months after he left the US. When Victor Manuel landed, he told me he went to go find his family, who lived in Mitro kan, a state

west of Mexico City. He hadn't had much contact with his family since he left, and if I remember correctly, none of them spoke English. He didn't speak Spanish, and it didn't take him long to realize that he was in a narco town. I remember Victor Manuel being very tall, especially for Mexico. And heavily tattooed and well, very obviously an outsider afraid of getting kidnapped by a cartel. I remember him telling me he left Mitro Kan by bus

under the cover of darkness. He landed in Mexico City with no job, no friends or family, and no Spanish, as Victor Manuel described as struggles with his identity. As a returney to me, I thought to myself, Oh God, this is like if I had to come live in Mexico. I recognized a lot of those feelings, like way more than I thought I would. This changed my life. I grew up thinking I had zero things in common identity wise, with immigrants from Latin America, that they somehow had it easier.

And now I was hearing that actually the culture shock and pressure and disappointment upon first coming to Mexico, as well as the intense imposter syndrome that he felt in the States, were really, really similar. I was shocked. For my whole life, I had assumed that I was the only one who felt this way, that because of my unusual situation, I was the sole ambassador from my planet. And now not only was I hearing that I weirdly

wasn't alone. I was also hearing about a predicament that I had never even really thought about, what ha happens when people return. I'm sure you wanted to hear an interview with Victor Manuel instead of hearing me talk about our conversation. The truth is I didn't get his contact info, and while later I realized I could have probably used Uber to contact him, by that point he seemed to

have left. What set me on the path of doing this whole project was trying to find him to be able to hear his whole story, to talk to him again. But so far I haven't been able to. So Victor, if you're out there, hit me up.

what gives people the most hang ups. Not really Latin people per se, but people who are not from a Latin background, who, for one reason or another think I'm lying, and while I have no ill will towards them, people like Hilaria Baldwin and Rachel Doleas all have not helped us.